Notice
by TheeMizKitty
Summary: When I first started to notice him in a...different way, all I could think was that something was very, very wrong in my head. H/D slash


Notice.

Pairing: HarryPotter/DracoMalfoy

6th year AU without all the angst in the original.

Disclaimer: As of now, I own a bag of Fritos. But Harry Potter? I think not.

It seemed impossible to think that such evil could fit within such a slender body. Every time I looked at him, looked at his small, pointed features, at his delicate hands, I wondered that same thing over and over again. How could someone so lovely be so truly evil?

Granted, I didn't really know if he was completely evil yet, but I knew that it was only a matter of time. After all, he is the son of Voldemort's right-hand man; it only made sense then that he would join them in their dark magiks. But then, it's not that surprising—Draco Malfoy has always been evil to me.

So is it wrong that more and more I've started to find him, that ferrety evil git who has always made Hogwarts miserable, attractive?

I dare say I'm going insane. Maybe Voldemort's messing with my head? I'm not entirely sure if I'd be happy if that were the case or not. Dark wizard in my brain or true attraction to Malfoy? I really didn't like the outcome one way or another.

I've considered talking to Hermione about this attraction, this primitive feeling I am starting to have towards my school-rival. Maybe he's placed a hex on me, and Hermione will be able to detect it? Maybe this whole ordeal is not actually me at all, but a potion, anything, and would wear off so that I can go back to my merry way of hating the arse. It would certainly make my days so much easier. I mean there really is no sense in me waiting for over fifteen minutes in the third floor hallway for him to walk by; and there certainly is no reason for me to stare at him all the time like some puppy staring after its master.

It's disgusting; it's irrational; it's all I ever want to do. Watch him as he brushes those platinum strands back, study him as he tries to solve a hard problem and he starts to chew on his plump lower lip. I used to tell myself, in the beginning, that I was only staring at him to try to figure out his hidden motives—which trust me, I'm sure he has some. If only I could guess what they were, instead of staring at his ass every other minute.

It really is amazing that Ron and Hermione have not caught on by now to my insane attraction; but then again, they've been too busy lately making eyes at each other. They aren't officially dating yet but really, they should be, because I can't stand the tension and the goo-goo eyed looks anymore. Did they really think the other wouldn't notice? Did they really think that _I _wouldn't notice? Granted, I couldn't seem to look anywhere else but at Malfoy recently, but still…

It was when I started to notice what Malfoy ate every morning at breakfast—a blueberry muffin—lunch and dinner—chicken—that I knew that I could no longer wait for Hermione to get out of her Ron-induced haze. I needed help, therapy, whatever it would take to get rid of Malfoy, to get him out of my mind for good. Or, even better, get him out of my life forever. But then I suppose that then that would be murder…

….

Sigh… Sometimes I hate being the good guy.

Malfoy has got to be doing something to me; it's the only explanation that makes sense. It's been an entire week and I am slowly losing my mind. All I seem to be able to do is watch Malfoy; watch him eat, watch him study, watch him talk. And, one night, I even watched him sleep. But that had been amusing; who would have thought the Slytherin Prince likes to wear footie pajamas? I still regret not getting a picture of that, not that anyone would believe me anyway.

And anyway, he had looked really cute, all wrapped up in that green material, his hair mussed…

But this cute was evil, this cute was poison; this cute needed to be assassinated and cut out like a tumor. First though, I had to discover what he was doing to affect me in such ways. As Hermione was still lost in her mooning over Ron, I did what she would have done and went to the library one afternoon during a free period to look up spells, hexes, jinxes, anything. I scoured the books until my eyes hurt, but at the same time I found that I could not read a single word of it; my mind was a little too busy being focused on Malfoy.

What was he doing right now? Who was he with? Was he eating? Showering? Thinking of me?

…was he naked?

And that was always where my brain short circuited. Rather than reading the books I spent the better half of my time in the library trying to push back thoughts of a naked Malfoy and the, uh, problem that came with such thoughts. I mean, it's perfectly natural, I'm a teenage boy! And besides, Malfoy was a handsome bloke once you got past his attitude. Maybe I could actually start to accept this lust I had if I bought a muzzle and magically glued it to his face?

I might just have to ask Hermione about that…

I was on the verge of hopelessly giving up my search for…whatever it was I had been looking for when another presence joined me at my table.

A sinister presence. An evil presence. A sexy, evil, sinister, snarky, gitty presence.

I barely contained my shout when I looked up to see Draco Malfoy smirking back at me. And I knew then and there, as my heart twisted in my chest, that I was done for.

"Potter," Malfoy greeted me with his usual smirk and I summoned my usual glare back for him. Maybe if I just acted like I always acted around him, he'd go away? Maybe then he wouldn't suspect anything…

"Malfoy. What brings you to my corner of the library? Come to harass me as usual?"

Malfoy's smirk turned absolutely feral. "Actually, Potter, I believe that if I were to harass you, you'd like that too much."

It was really hard for me not to start spluttering, so hard for me to stop a blush from creeping into my cheeks. He's just toying with me; I told myself over and over again, he doesn't really know, he can't…

"W-What the hell do you mean by that, Malfoy?" I stuttered out in the roughest voice I could manage, making sure to glare extra hard at him to make up for the pink on my cheeks.

Malfoy only continued to smile that vicious smile of his. I tried my best not to squirm. "I think you know exactly what it means Potter. Or should I call you…Harry?"

There was no ignoring my blush now; it spread like fire from my face down my neck as embarrassment twisted inside of me. Malfoy's victorious smile yanked that embarrassment into righteous anger, making me fall back on the animosity that had existed before everything started to change.

"What the fuck gives you the right to call me by my name Ferret?" I snarled as I stood from the table, the chair toppling over behind me. "What the fuck makes me think you know a God damn thing about me?"

On Malfoy's face, that smug little smirk only seemed to widen as he reclined casually back in his seat, as though my anger meant little to him. Which, of course, was the truth. "Don't I?" he replied smoothly; too smoothly, too mysteriously. I felt myself falter.

"Don't you _what?_"

"Don't I know something about you _Harry_? I'm your enemy—it's my duty to know your weaknesses, your faults, your thoughts and your…feelings." Malfoy slanted me a look that was unreadable and I swallowed the jumble of nerves that had crawled up to form a lump in my throat. He was speaking of feelings, and it was bringing back all the things I have been thinking lately about him, about the clarity and brightness of his silver eyes, about his finely spun hair, his smooth, elegant voice…

Suddenly he was standing right in front of me and that face, that lovely face, was so close to my own. His eyes were peering into mine, as though trying to read my soul. My soul which contained very illicit images of him. Oops.

Stumbling back a step I quickly averted my eyes and scowled, hoping it would be enough to cover up my blush, which had only deepened at his proximity. "You don't need to know all of that," I growled, "All you know are the insults I use on you and how to get under my skin."

In more ways than one…

Malfoy actually pouted at me, taking another step forward until he was dangerously close again. Damn, how big was that step? But I couldn't step back because if I did he would see how awkward he was making me, and maybe, just maybe, he would catch on…

And I think I would die before I let that happen.

"Would you consider that a good thing?" Malfoy calmly asked as I struggled to keep up with the conversation. "Consider what a good thing?" I blinked.

"My getting under your skin. It's probably exciting I'm sure…"

…Holy hell, did Malfoy _purr _that sentence! Was he…flirting with me?

I'm on the verge of an aneurism. Malfoy was staring up at me almost…coquettishly, his smirking lips so very pink and soft looking, his eyes holding an undeniable glimmer of mischief that made my breath catch in my throat. In fact, I was no longer breathing at all.

"E-Exciting? More l-like annoying!" Damn it I was stuttering. But how could I not when he was looking up at me like that? Speaking to me in such a voice that I was starting to feel hot all over. And by the mischief in his eyes, he seemed to know exactly what he was doing to me.

Merlin help me, he was made of complete evil wasn't he?

"But annoying can be interesting can't it _Harry_?" he softly replied. His eyes smoldered my soul, my heart, my lungs until I was surrounded by fire, his fire, and left bare at his mercy. I almost wanted to close my eyes and hope that the end would come soon.

"I—" I stuttered, desperate for words, for the ability to look away from those grey, grey eyes. "I don't—"

Malfoy's breath hit my cheek and I felt like I had been stuck. Dazed I could only stand there as delicate fingers gently caressed the front of my sweater, creeping closer and ensnaring me. Pulling me closer and closer…

"Harry…"

It was my name that managed to bring me back, said so softly, like a lover. Hearing my name, my first name from those lips and that sultry voice. He had never said my name before and to hear it now was like a shock to my entire system. It reminded me of just who I was dealing with and how utterly false everything had to be. Draco Malfoy would never say my name so softly; not unless he had a hidden agenda.

"Get off of me!" I snarled, reaching up to push him forcefully away from me. I must have underestimated my own strength as Malfoy fell back ungracefully on the floor on his arse, his previous softened expression quickly morphing into a mask of rage.

"What the bloody hell was that for Potter?" he snapped as he fluidly jerked to his feet, a dark scowl aimed at me. I only narrowed my eyes back.

"You no damn well what it was for Malfoy! Stop trying to seduce me or whatever the hell you're doing and leave me the fuck alone!"

Twin spots of pink stained Malfoy's cheeks as he glowered silently at me for a long moment after that, and I could only wonder why the hell he wasn't fighting back like usual. Why wasn't he even denying my words? Why wasn't he mocking me for actually almost falling into his seduction?

And why the hell were his eyes so bright and silver and lovely?

"Maybe I was wrong then," Malfoy said at length quietly, so quietly that I had to strain to hear him.

"Wrong about what?" I demanded, and he looked away from me, turned away from me. "Malfoy what-?"

"Forget it Potter," he bit out in a familiar vicious voice over his shoulder at me. "It's nothing, nothing happened here. Nothing."

I growled. "Something sure as hell did you—"

"Just forget it Potter!" Malfoy hissed, whirling back around to pin me with his hard granite gaze. "It meant nothing!"

If it meant nothing then why was it that his voice sounded harsher than usual? Why was it that his face was still flushed and his eyes were so big and lost?

"Malfoy—"

I took a step towards him even when I knew that it was too late. Malfoy threw one last dark look at me before sweeping out of the library leaving me alone to stare dumbly after him. What in all of Dobby's sock drawer had just happened?

I wanted to say something but by the time I had recovered and my curiosity was enough to bother me, Malfoy was already gone and I was left with only his cryptic words. Why had he seemed so angry? Why did he seem like he had been…embarrassed? I could not understand him…and why did I even want to?

I left the library trying to forget about what had happened; I should have known that it wouldn't be that easy to get Draco Malfoy out of my mind.

The next few days after that…incident in the library things were only starting to get worse. But what exactly did I expect? I cursed my curiosity repeatedly as I sat in the back of the class and stared at that silver head, wishing not for the first time that I could just read his thoughts. He had stopped looking at me; in fact, he didn't seem to notice me at all.

And that, right there, was slowly driving me insane.

What was he planning? He had to be planning something, because he couldn't just ignore me without a meaning. That was impossible for Malfoy, because he just had to bother me; he just had to. It was the way things went and the way things always had to be.

So why the fuck wasn't he doing it?

By the time class ended my eye was twitching and Ron was staring at me in concern. "Uh Harry mate? You okay?"

"Yeah Ron," I replied in distraction through clenched teeth. I never took my eyes off of the slender figure in the front row gathering his books, speaking in hushed tones to Crabbe and Goyle. I was oblivious to Ron and Hermione as I watched Goyle and Crabbe saunter off, leaving Malfoy alone. I was out of my seat and approaching him before I even knew that I was doing.

For a long moment I stared at his bent head, suddenly almost enraptured by how truly pale those strands were. They looked more like a silver than a blonde, and combined with all that soft looking pale skin—

"What do you want Potter?"

His voice sent a jolt through my system, and to cover the flush that threatened to overtake my face I plastered a familiar scowl on my face. Only Malfoy didn't scowl back. He just stared at me impassively, almost as though he didn't know who the hell he was talking to. Everything about him was blank, a closed up shell that made my own hands close up into fists in frustration. To stare at me so blankly, without a spark of emotion, without a spark of what I'd always known made Malfoy himself…it was annoying and, somewhere inside of my chest I felt a pain. It only grew worse when he didn't say anything else, but just waited. I could only stare right back.

Now that he was in front of me and I was staring into those silver eyes, I forgot what I was even standing there for in the first place. I mean, I knew that I wanted answers from him but…I couldn't will myself to ask them. It was as though those eyes, that face, were all I knew of anymore…

…what the fuck was happening to me?

I was starting to panic, and it was no longer just inwardly. Why couldn't I look away from him? Behind me I heard Ron and Hermione approach us and flinched, reality feeling like a slap to the face. How the hell could I be standing here, thinking such ridiculous thoughts of Malfoy, with my friend's right behind me?

And why the hell did his lack of emotion, his careful façade, bother me so much? This was what I had always wanted—Malfoy quiet, subdued, defeated. Not the snarky, gitty, sarcastic, witty, passionate Malfoy from before. That Malfoy would meet my eyes with that spark of defiance, and all but spit in my face.

And you know what?

I wouldn't have minded.

I was starting to think that something was seriously wrong with my brain.

"Oi, whatcha doing with this wanker Harry?" Ron was quick to sneer from somewhere behind me, and I could only watch as though in a trance as Malfoy tore his blank eyes from mine to glower over my shoulder at Ron.

"Mind your own business Weasley, if you ever even have any. Potter was just being an imbecile as usual, gaping at me like a great bloody fish." The smirk he gave me shouldn't have looked as edible as it did. "Of course I can't blame him; I _am _a little too easy on the eyes."

Why did it feel like I suddenly just swallowed my tongue? I tried to speak around the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat, but my vocal chords seemed to be paralyzed under the intensity of that mercury gaze. What could I say anyway? I had no reason to be here even speaking to Malfoy, let alone gaping at him like I admittedly was. Of course, it wasn't because he was as hot as he said, not at all.

"You wish Malfoy," Ron bit out for me. For once I was glad for Ron's above normal hate for Malfoy. He placed a freckled hand on my shoulder, and I swear I saw Malfoy's eyes narrow at the action. "Come on mate; let's leave this tosser to moon over himself."

As Ron started to led me away, Hermione congratulating us on being so "irrationally civil" towards Malfoy, I risked one glance back at my shoulder at the blonde.

What I got in return for my efforts was Malfoy's middle finger and a glare so dark it would have made Voldemort proud.

It was only when I was in my dorm room later that evening, trying to do homework when I realized that I had never asked Malfoy about what he was planning in the first place.

It only took me an hour to decide that I needed to confront Malfoy again. It only took me nearly an entire day to work up the courage to even try it. It was ridiculous; here I was, the boy-who-lived, afraid to approach my greatest school rival because of some strange feelings in my chest that I was sure would fade away in only a few days.

I just had to wait it out, but for some reason I just couldn't. Who knew what Malfoy could be up to, what with the strange behavior he'd exhibited in the library? He was trying to mess with my head and damn it all it was working. I had to stop this before it went too far.

But how far was too far?

All day I watched him, followed him, listened to him and couldn't stop thinking about him. Everything about him was starting to baffle me, especially the way he was treating me. Even when he saw me blatantly staring at him, he said nothing. His expression stayed blank, stoic, and he met my eyes with grey ones that seemed to hold no malice. How could that be possible? Malfoy was supposed to hate me, so why the hell was he staring back at me like that?

Unbidden, I kept thinking back to that day in the library, and the feel of his slim body pressed so close to mine. I had been able to see every little detail of his face, down to each pale eyelash. It made no sense as to why he had even acted that way. So…seductively. The reasonable part of my brain kept saying that it had all been a prank…

But if it had really been a prank, then why was Malfoy acting so…depressed? Why wasn't he smirking at me, or mocking me like usual?

Something had happened in that library, and for the life of me I could not yet figure out what. All I really knew was that inside my chest my heart had started to become unsettled, a churning mess that needed to stop, and needed to stop now. The only way that such a thing could ever happen was if I just confronted the git and got this whole thing sorted out.

But what exactly needed to be sorted out, anyway?

I doubted myself, and I didn't know why. All day I watched him, and never did I approach him. Every time I even tried to, something held me back in an invisible grip and I was left silently seething and staring, always staring. Staring at the way Malfoy's hair seemed to fall slightly into his left eye; staring at the way he wrinkled his nose up slightly when he laughed, even if it was in cruelty; staring at the way his eyes gleamed with something other than hate all the time, and something other than malice. Those silver eyes could be soft, gentle, clear, lovely. Oh so lovely and entrancing and—

This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous. That night as I sat in the Great Hall, peering over my friends' shoulders to watch him, I knew that this had to end. This…whatever it was between us. Ron and Hermione suspected something was wrong with me, but they couldn't quite catch on to where my gaze kept wandering to. Well, I'm sure Hermione knew but Ron…He didn't have the slightest idea and if I could, I'd keep it that way. Besides, what was going on between Malfoy and me wasn't a big deal, not at all.

So later at night, as I stared at Malfoy's dot alone on the Marauder's Map, pacing back and forth by the Room of Requirement, I certainly didn't feel any weird exploding things in my stomach. My heart certainly didn't start beating faster, and I certainly wasn't sweating beneath my invisibility cloak.

Sneaking through the hallways, I stopped as soon as I caught sight of him, his dark form leaning against the stone wall outside the hidden room. He was still wearing his school robes, and the darkness of them made his otherworldly blonde hair shine like a flashlight in the shadows. It was my beacon and, inevitably, I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Or, more accurately, a sheep to a slaughterhouse—to put it lightly. I couldn't even try to justify the feeling that swelled inside of me as I stood there, hidden, and simply stared at him.

When I finally worked up the gall to reveal myself to him, he didn't look surprised. He just raised one of his perfect eyebrows at me, crossing his arms and putting on his familiar smirk. I can't believe I was actually happy to see that smirk.

"How did I know I'd run into a heroic git tonight?" he drawled, "Out stalking me again Potter?"

I couldn't even work up a snarl for him and had to settle for a half hearted glare. "I'm only trying to see what a devious Slytherin such as yourself is doing up at this hour, Malfoy."

"I should ask the same of you! Staying up all night to watch me Potter? I'm flattered."

Do not blush, do not blush, do not blush… GAH, I didn't even have a reason to be blushing anyway!

"Cut the crap Malfoy and just tell me what the hell you're doing by the Room of Requirement. Preparing another cabinet?"

Sometimes, I really should keep my mouth shut. I could not help but feel a pinch of guilt as Malfoy's face hardened at the reminder of the past neither of us was quite over.

"Is that what you think I'm doing Potter?" Malfoy asked slowly, carefully. Quietly. His face was once again unreadable, his eyes searching mine for something I wasn't sure I could give him as I just stood there awkwardly, clutching the invisibility cloak and shuffling from foot to foot.

"Well, I mean…I didn't really mean to accuse you of…"

"Save your breath Potter," Malfoy snarled at me, "I know very well that you meant to accuse me!" He looked away from me for a moment, and something flashed through his eyes. Something that made my gut twist and my mouth grow dry. I knew that single look, having seen it reflected on my own face for too long now whenever I looked in the mirror.

_Guilt._

"Malfoy—"

"Not that I can really blame you for accusing me of something like that," Malfoy continued. His voice was so quiet that it was a miracle that I could hear him but I did. He still would not look at me; in this moment, I knew that he forgot that I was even there.

"I've done plenty of bad things, especially to you Potter. Frankly I'm surprised you're even talking to me now and agreed to…this. I suspect you're here only because you want to keep an eye on me?" The look he threw me wasn't defiant, but rather exasperated. He was tired of people always assuming the worst from him. I was tired of people always assuming the best from me. We were more alike than I had dared imagined and, deep inside, dared hope.

I took one step closer; he took another step back. "No," I stuttered, "That's not it at all! I was just…I wanted to know…" I trailed off, feeling my cheeks start to burn as I tried to stammer out the truth. But what really was the truth? He was staring at me, guarded and curious. I forced myself to just say it. "I wanted to know what you meant in the library that one day and why…you've been quiet around me lately."

He was quick to look away but he couldn't hide, in the darkness, the faintest flush that stained his pale cheeks. I couldn't deny the way my breath caught. "I haven't been quiet at all! And if I have it certainly isn't because of you!" Malfoy was quick to deny. Too quick to deny. I could hear the exasperation in his voice, the speciousness in his denial and I knew that he could hear it to. "It isn't because of you…"

I took a step forward without really meaning to. He didn't step back this time. He was staring at me now with something reflecting inside of his mercury orbs, something that my brain couldn't seem to comprehend but my heart…

"Are you sure?" I breathed. Another step. I was crossing the boundaries between us, so lined with barbed wire over the years and yet I wasn't getting hurt. Not with the way he was biting his lip, faltering, rooted to the spot and trained solely on me.

Malfoy's hate of me had always given my courage; courage to act against him, to stand up for myself and realize that I had to be a good guy in such a world populated by bad guys. Unknowingly Malfoy had always helped me just by being the arrogant he is, and now…

Now…

There was a vague frightened look on his face as I edged closer and closer, but he didn't step away. He was eyeing me wearily, arms tightening across his chest in a vague sense of self defense. Somewhere, I found it adorable.

"What do you want with me Potter?" he asked me, almost boldly. He tilted his head back, chin up; the last defense the Malfoy heir had to offer.

"I thought you had taken to calling me Harry?" I asked softly, recalling the way my name had rolled off his tongue in those too brief moments in the library. He closed his eyes for just a moment, flinching, as though I was beating something inside of him with my questions. I didn't want to cause him pain but I needed to know, especially now that it felt like I was on the brink of something and one more word from him would send me tumbling in.

I knew what this feeling was now, as he opened his moonlight eyes and I saw the softness, the devastation and the burn that lurked within them.

"Why do you think Harry Potter?" A surrender, a gusty sigh in the air between us that suddenly seemed to burst with something.

Longing. Lust. Passion. And maybe just maybe, if I squinted enough I could see what I didn't want to see but really did, buried beneath the covers yet still there, a formation of what could only be love, so pushed back yet still there always there—

"I think I've finally figured it out Draco." And his name was sweet on my tongue, but not as sweet as his mouth as it latched on to mine, the steps we'd made falling apart and meeting again in the middle, and all the weeks of speculations and odd feelings and even odder thoughts all suddenly made sense in the collision that our bodies made.

And somewhere in the snogging I felt him whisper against my lips, so pink and soft and warm—

"Finally you noticed me."

Damn right I did. It was hard not to when he felt so good in my arms in a way that kissing Ginny never had.

It seemed impossible to think that I was snogging the daylights out of Draco Malfoy but, well, I've had worse surprises.

When we broke apart for air, only daring to move scant millimeters apart, the old Malfoy was back, smirking up at me in all his Slytherin glory and the effect would have bothered me if his eyes hadn't been so soft. Since when did I get a soft spot for Malfoy's eyes? Now, apparently.

"Well Potter, do you finally get it?" he breathed across my face, and I had to physically stop myself from kissing him again.

"Get what Malfoy?"

Mmm, since when did last names have such a sexy ring to them?

"Get that my plan worked after all," he whispered, leaning in to kiss my gently on the nose. At the word 'plan' I started to frown, started to pull away as the doubt crept in, the suspicion that even snogging couldn't erase.

"Plan?" I growled, tightening my hold on his waist. "What plan Malfoy?"

But Malfoy was undeterred by my suspicion, reaching up to muss my hair almost playfully. "The plan to get you to notice me of course. It took longer than I expected but you do have a slow brain…"

I tried to push him away from me, but he was like an octopus. A sexy, smirking octopus of course. "I repeat: what plan? What did you do to me?" I narrowed my eyes, "is this all a result of some kind of love spell?"

"Of course not!" Malfoy scoffed, "all I did was cast a simple Notice-Me spell and, well, your brain, or should I say libido, did the rest from there. I didn't ask you to follow me here Harry…"

I should have been angry at him; I should have pushed him away and pretended that this all hadn't happened. Of course, that would just bring unnecessary angst to my life, not to mention that I loved the way that he felt against me and the way his lips tasted and there was no way in hell a lust potion or even a love potion could be this potent. I had expected something like this; Draco was a Slytherin after all.

So I threw back my head and laughed. "All of this just for me Malfoy?" I beamed, and he blinked coyly up at me. "Why of course Potter; who else is deserving of my attentions in this putrid castle?"

I kissed him again. And again. And again. "Well I certainly notice you now Malfoy…"

And against my lips, what did Malfoy do? He smiled, a genuine smile that I felt rather than saw and it was so much better this way.

"Glad to know it Harry."

A/N: Ending is rushed but blah, I'm done with it. It was fun but I think I'm done writing Harry/Draco slash. Granted, I'll still read them like crazy, but writing them? Too many things to do, so little time ;(. I have a couple more stories lurking on my laptop to publish so hopefully I won't rush them as much. Ciao!-MKitty


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